


Shattered Sunday

by risingfire17



Category: Heart no Kuni no Alice | Alice in the Country of Hearts
Genre: Amnesia, Angst and Tragedy, Attempted Suicide, Childhood Friends, Dark Past, Depression, F/M, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gen, Hero Complex, Hurt/Comfort, In Denial, Kidnapping, Minor Character Death, Murder, Obsession, Past Child Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unrequited Love, internalized shame, kinda peter/alice if you squint, no edits we die like men, possessed to write this, self blame, written while procrastinating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 00:40:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29974746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/risingfire17/pseuds/risingfire17
Summary: Peter brought Alice to Wonderland for one reason alone: to save her from the horrors of her past. Even if she hates him for it.
Relationships: Alice Liddell & Peter White (Heart no Kuni no Alice), Alice Liddell/Peter White (Heart no Kuni no Alice)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	Shattered Sunday

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warning- please read the tags before reading!

Peter continued to nurse his drink as Ace and Boris kept their drinks coming and continued with their pathetic shenanigans. Soon enough, he told himself, they’d drink themselves into a stupor and stumble out of the pub, leaving Peter to brood in peace. Until then, he blocked out as much of their conversation as he could, especially when they began to speak of Alice. But he couldn’t help but hear Ace’s stupid question:

“If our hearts could beat like hers, do you think we could change like her?” Peter wanted to punch the stupid wannabe pensive expression off the big oaf’s face. And another punch to the dumb cat for encouraging him. They knew nothing. Peter knew he didn’t want to change. He’d seen the world that changed, and it wasn’t a world of growth and beauty. It was a world of destruction and decay. It was a world of darkness where innocence couldn’t last. It was the world that had destroyed Alice. That was why he’d brought her to the Country of Hearts in the first place.

It had been a long time since he’d been someone who could understand Ace’s desire to change. Exactly how long was hard to measure without looking at Alice, because she’d grown from a small child to a young woman. Whereas Peter had always been the same, and always would be. That’s just how the Country of Hearts was. Time stood still until the clock in your heart stopped beating. To imagine otherwise would be nonsense.

But there had been a time when Peter had grown frustrated with his role too. How could he not, with all the work the Queen put on him? In his frustration, he’d wandered so far, he’d entered a different world. His initial excitement had quickly given way to boredom. In this world, he was a small, powerless rabbit that couldn’t even talk or hold a gun! Not that he’d need one, as the people here followed a myriad of ridiculous rules on how to act, including stiff clothes, stiffer posture, and no weapons of any kind! Where was the fun in that?

He’d been about to leave when he saw Alice. She’d been just a child then, but she’d been tougher than any adult Peter had met in that world! He’d watched in awe as she boldly proclaimed to her sister than in her world, all sense would be nonsense. He wished he could show her the Country of Hearts; she’d love it! But he wasn’t a kidnapper, so he made do with visiting her whenever he had some time free of work. Mostly, he saw her sass her governess and struggle to sew. He agreed with her; who needed sewing, anyway?

But his favorite time was Sunday afternoons. She’d be free of her lessons, and able to run round the meadow to her heart’s content, creating her own worlds out of stones, flowers, and the willpower of her imagination. Her sister and that man at her side would take Alice there and leave their boring lovey-dovey adult conversations to themselves while Alice’s imagination ran unrestricted.

Eventually, Alice had noticed the rabbit that followed her as she played. She’d asked him matter-of-factly, as if talking to animals was something normal in her world: “ _You’ve been following me, haven’t you?”_ Even if he’d been able to speak to her in that form, he wouldn’t know what to say. It was stupid to follow someone around like that. What was he even doing?

But then she’d smiled wider than the sky. _“Let’s be friends. You can play too!”_ And that was how Peter had made his first friend. Come to think of it, she was the one who’d named him Peter. Before that, he’d just been the White Rabbit, assistant to the Queen. Every time he visited, she’d call his name. She’d tell him all about her dreams of a world where cake made you tall and potions made you small, and even a child like herself could be as big and strong as a house. She thanked him for listening to her when no one else would. One day, she wound a red ribbon around his neck and called it proof that they would be friends forever. Peter cherished the time he spent with his friend, especially the Sunday afternoons, even if it were in a dull world, in a dull form where he couldn’t speak. Nothing needed to change as long as he could keep Sunday afternoons with the warm sun and Alice’s warm smile.

But in that world, things changed. Summer faded to winter, warmth to cold, and innocence to desecration. As the weather grew cold, Alice’s sister grew frail. And that man appeared at the house more to care for her health and to look after Alice. Peter didn’t see much of him, because Alice had been clear that if the man found a rabbit in the house, he’d “get rid of him,” so Peter made sure to avoid that man when he came to see Alice.

Around this time, Alice changed. She was growing taller, and her body was changing shape. But she was no longer excited about growing tall like a house. She’d tell Peter that in her world, she could cry until there was a big ocean, and she’d be small again in it. She smiled while she said it, but her eyes looked sad. Like their light had gone out. What had happened to Alice?

One day, he found out. As usual, he’d snuck into her room, but before he could greet her, someone else snuck in and shut the door behind him. That man. Peter had dove under the bed in terror and stayed there until the man had left. He heard everything. The gentle coaxing. Alice’s muffled cries. The man’s labored breaths. The creaking of Alice’s wooden bedframe. The praise of what a good girl she was growing up to be, just like her sister. The promise never to tell anyone what they did. As soon as he heard the man’s heavy footsteps leave and the door shut, Peter came out from his hiding place to find Alice sweaty and red-faced like she’d just run for her life. Her eyes were glazed over, and she clutched her stomach as if in pain. But as soon as she saw Peter, she straightened and attempted to scoff as if what had happened didn’t hurt her.

_“You saw, didn’t you? You’re lucky you’re just a rabbit. If a person had seen that, he’d probably kill them.”_ So, there were people in this world that would kill? _He can go ahead and try,_ he wanted to proclaim. In fact, he wanted to empty his entire gun into that man’s chest and shatter the clock in his heart for good. But in this world, the one thing that never changed was that he was a helpless rabbit. He couldn’t make that man pay for what he’d done to Alice. He couldn’t even cradle her and tell her everything would be okay. All he could do was let her hold him close as her tears fell into his fur.

He thought that night would be the worst of it. Boy, was he wrong. Because, as years went on, Alice began to chase after the man’s affection. A pointless endeavor, in Peter’s eyes. That man only showed up to say sweet words to her ailing sister and to say far less to Alice behind closed doors. Still, Alice would ask Peter what dresses or ribbons would get his attention. On good days. On bad days, she’d ask him why she had to be such a treacherous person to steal from her sweet sister. On worse days, she’d ask why her sister couldn’t just disappear already so Alice’s love could finally be returned. This world was breaking Alice. She couldn’t stay here. So, Peter vowed to find a way to bring Alice to the Country of Hearts.

When he finally found a way, he rushed to her world, a potion and a letter tied to the red ribbon around his neck. He’d written everything out, who he was, what he knew, and how he could help her escape. She’d have to make the decision to come to the Country of Hearts on her own. That had been the plan. And hopefully, she’d choose to follow him to a place where their Sunday afternoon would never end.

But that was before he’d found the scene in the meadow. A knife in the chest of Alice’s sister. Alice, bloody-handed and in tears, kneeling before the man who sneered down at the women.

_“You told me if I did it, we could be together! You told me you loved me!”_

_“My dear, you must be mistaken. You have fallen prey to some disturbing fantasies and look what happened as a result. Fear not, when I inherit your family’s estate, I will ensure you are well cared-for in the asylum.”_

Peter couldn’t do anything as Alice crumpled to the ground, wailing in despair. He couldn’t even approach her until the man strode away triumphantly to “call for a doctor.” By the time he made it to her, her voice had died out and her eyes looked as broken as a stopped clock.

_“Peter. I deserve this, don’t I?”_ No, he wanted to scream. She didn’t deserve this one bit. She didn’t deserve any of the years that man had spent breaking her body and her mind. But, of course, he couldn’t say a word. Not unless she came to the Country of Hearts to meet him in his true form. He tried to push the items around his neck toward her, but she was lost in her despair. _“My treacherous heart caused this all.”_ No, he wanted to cry. Her heart had been trampled over by a sick man. _He_ was the treacherous one! _Please, Alice, read the letter!_ But she seemed to look right through him at this point.

Right to the knife in her sister’s chest. _“If my heart committed this crime, then I should make it pay, right?”_ Peter looked into the eyes of his friend, which had gone wild with resolve. She wanted to stop her own clock. Peter had never heard of someone doing such a thing. And seeing Alice’s sister made Peter’s stomach lurch in fear of something else he’d never seen before: a body that didn’t disintegrate into an afterimage and a clock after death. Could that woman’s clock not be fixed? And if Alice stopped her clock, could that also not be fixed?

He’d planned for Alice to choose the Country of Hearts on her own. But the situation wouldn’t afford him that luxury. To save her, he’d have to bring her back, whether she agreed to it or not. That was why, even with his clumsy paws, he’d ripped the potion bottle free of his ribbon, yanked the cork out with his teeth, and forced the potion into Alice’s mouth just before she drove the blade into her own chest.

The world around them shattered like glass, and they fell into blackness, the dream world between Alice’s world and his own. Back in the land of magic, Peter returned to his true form, and for the first time he could hold Alice, shielding her from the fall as he’d wanted to shield her from everything that cruel world had done to her. Everything would be fine now. Alice would be safe in the Country of Hearts. And her pure soul would never need to be desecrated again.

Nightmare had at first refused to let Alice cross the dream world into the Country of Hearts. Her unstable heart could destroy the entire world. Just as Peter had paid the price of his body to cross into her world: she’d have to pay a price to cross into his: her memories. But that didn’t bother Peter. He’d brought her here to be free of that horrible past of hers, after all. Wouldn’t the ultimate freedom be the ability to forget.

_“She’ll need to forget you too. As you are the memory of her Sunday afternoons, and the things we can’t let her remember.”_

_“That’s fine by me. As long as she can create new Sunday afternoons here, she doesn’t need the ones she spent with me.”_

When Alice awoke, her memories were in small enough fragments that they couldn’t hurt her. She had a sister she loved, one she assumed was at home waiting for her. There was a man she loved who didn’t love her back. And she’d had a normal, happy childhood with the ones she loved. Her eyes were clear and bright like they’d been all those years ago. And they turned on Peter in hatred, for he was the strange rabbit-eared man who’d kidnapped her from her idyllic life. A role he was only too happy to play if it could shield her from the truth. Peter was no stranger to holding a role, after all.

“Oi—hic!—do ya lover?” That damn drunk cat lay his head on the table, looking up at that dumbass Ace like a child listening to a story.

“Heh, ‘oo knowss?” slurred the equally drunk knight. “The ‘ell do—hic!—any ‘o us know ‘bout love anyways? That’s—hic!—somethin’ they do in ‘er world, not ‘ere!”

“Ehhhhh? Hmmm I guess yer right…we can’t—hic!—we can’t love ‘cause we don’t got beating hearts like hers.”

“Exactly! An’ we can’t change—hic!—‘casue we don’ ‘ave hearts. Best—hic!—not dwellun what we can’t change.”

The two morons finally stumbled out of the bar, praising themselves for their “self-reflection” and their feelings for Alice. Whatever those were. Peter scoffed and swirled the drink in his hand. Idiots like them didn’t deserve to have any sort of feelings for Alice. Not when they would never know her like he did.

Peter wasn’t like them. He may be obsessed with Alice, but he had his reasons. How could he turn away from the one who’d given him a name? But what he felt for her certainly wasn’t love. Love was something that existed in her world, not his. Love took something pure and twisted it until it broke. He wouldn’t do that to Alice. Not when she was finally free.

Peter was fine just being at her side sometimes. Even if all he got was the anger in her voice and the hatred in her eyes. It was proof that her light was still alive. Peter wasn’t like those drunk idiots who’d just left, thinking they could change, or that they’d even want to. Peter needed no change. All he needed was for Alice to stay here. To stay the Alice who didn’t remember those heinous things. And to stay the Alice who didn’t remember him.

**Author's Note:**

> An ode to the past me that wanted a Peter to come rescue me. But in real life there are no Peters or Wonderlands to escape to, and let's be honest Stockholm Syndrome is not a healthy coping mechanism. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ 
> 
> Also PSA that sudden quiet/withdrawal/sadness in a previously energetic/outgoing child is a sign of abuse, sexual or otherwise!


End file.
